


Concentric

by liminoid



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: M/M, Raiden joins philanthropy au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-10-31 00:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10887759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liminoid/pseuds/liminoid
Summary: He's only been able to come up with one idea on that front, toying with it for weeks and running over the same few outcomes and options in his head. His hands waver around between his ear and his chin, hesitant, until he finally decides – fuck it. It's not as if he has anything else to lose at this point.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> look i know im in the middle of another fic thats just this without raisune but im just gonnae keep writing the same thing over and over again and u cant stop me

Raiden is lying on his shitty mattress in his shitty bedsit. He's been here for a few months now and he's unbearably restless – Rose isn't there to distract him from himself, and leaving Snake and Otacon to rescue Olga's kid was eating him up. There has to be something he can do to stop him feeling so powerless.

He's only been able to come up with one idea on that front, toying with it for weeks and running over the same few outcomes and options in his head. His hands waver around between his ear and his chin, hesitant, until he finally decides – fuck it. It's not as if he has anything else to lose at this point.

The shrill codec calling tone beeps in his ear and his face heats up a little; his heart thumps in his chest and he doesn't really know why. It's probably because he's worried about bothering him or calling the wrong frequency or... maybe something else. Not that Snake would pick up anyway, he isn't stupid enough to keep the same-

“Raiden.” A quiet, low voice answers.

“Uh.”

He really wasn't expecting him to answer at all, and it throws him off guard until Snake repeats his name.

“Raiden, that is you, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

“What is it?”

He collects himself, remembers why it is he contacted him in the first place. There's no point in tiptoeing around subjects with Snake, so he launches straight into his suggestion.

“I wanna help you – you and Otacon.”

“No.”

Snake's answer is as swift and firm as Raiden had hypothesised in his play-throughs of the conversation, not even allowing him to explain anything.

“But-”

“But nothing. You have other things to focus on right now and you know that.”

It hurts, and Snake is very much wrong at this point. 

“I- I don't... Please. I just-” he cuts himself off. Stopping before his voice cracks. 

Snake grumbles and Raiden can almost see the furrowed brows and grimacing mouth. There's a short pause while Snake thinks of how to respond, and Raiden is trying really hard to breathe evenly, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat.

“Where are you right now?” 

“What?”

“Your location.”

“Still in New York. What does that have to do with anything?”

“...I'll send you some co-ordinates. Meet me there in-” he pauses again, “- a couple of hours or so.”

He says nothing more. He hangs up and Raiden is left slightly baffled, but he follows the instructions given to him. He's good at following instructions.

* * *

“Hi there, how can I help you?”

The receptionist is smiling and polite, but clearly bored out of her mind, drumming her fingers over the wooden counter. Raiden doesn't blame her.

He hangs back behind Snake, waiting for him to speak for the both of them.

“Two rooms, please.”

“Sure, two seconds. Just need some details from you once...-” she sighs and taps the screen in front of her with a pen “- this decides to load up.”

She wiggles the mouse about, all of her actions building up a distinct air of impatience, until there's finally a relieved nod of her head.

“There we go... So, can I get a name for the first room?”

She looks up at Snake, head tilted to the left. Raiden chews the inside of his mouth.

“...Iroquois Pliskin.”

She breaks into a grin, apparently forgetting that she was supposed to type it into the system, and puts on a low, grumbly voice.

“We'd make one hell of a team, Snake!”

Raiden snaps his head to look at Snake, his heart racing and eyes wide. 

“Call me Pliskin.”

Upon hearing this, the girl claps her hands together and lets out a laugh.

“Hmm, what about you... Ryback?”

Raiden stares between Snake and the receptionist with a mix of confusion and distress on his face.

“Nah, he's not much of a Seagal.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right. I just picked it 'cuz I love that movie... I don't know, he doesn't really have much of an action hero vibe, does he?”

“You'd be surprised.”

Raiden manages to shake himself out of his shock. 

“Look, what- what the hell are you two talking about? I'm right here, you know.”

The receptionist jumps, and is quick to apologise – her years in customer service flipping a switch at the sign of any potential conflict.

“Ah.. I'm really sorry about that! I-I just thought it was a neat name.”

“It's all right, the kid's cranky 'cause he's tired, right, uh... Jack?”

“What? I mean- yeah.” 

He's definitely not wrong – Raiden is fucking exhausted, has been for months. But he feels guilty for snapping now, the receptionist probably is as well.

“Sorry, that was pretty rude of me.”

He scratches the back of his head and struggles to make eye contact, but he can see out of the corner of his eye that she's smiling again.

“Don't worry about it. But I need your name too, if that's OK?”

Raiden obliges, giving the name Jack Sears because he doesn't really know what else to say. Snake hands over a wad of cash to cover both of the rooms, and there is another short wait for the computer to spit out a receipt. The receptionist makes a joke about it sounding as if the computer is about to take off, earning another chuckle out of Snake. Finally, she hands over key-cards for their rooms.

As they walk up 3 flights of stairs, Raiden can see the place is a weird halfway point between motel and hotel. Everything is kind of old and worn and dusty. It's taken care of just well enough for it to be inhabitable, however, and there's a mediocre bar and restaurant next to the reception, which they both pointedly ignore.

They don't really say much to each other until they reach their rooms – Raiden's being the first they come across. Once Raiden slings his small duffel bag into the corner and flops onto the bed, Snake speaks.

“So, what exactly happened, Raiden?”

“I'm not... I don't-” he hides his face in his hands.

There's a stupid lump in his throat and it won't let him say what he wants to – his mind goes blank.

“I just... fucked up. I guess.”

“Sure,” Snake says, and walks to the old, battered heater under the window, turning it on, “so what do you want me to do about it?”

“Let me be part of Philanthropy. I can help you guys out.”

Snake sighs again – Raiden can't tell if it's out of annoyance or not, so he starts scratching his forearm, just below his elbow.

“I'm not doubting your abilities here, but it's not a good idea, all right?”

“What else am I supposed to do, Snake? I don't _know_ anything else.”

He's so desperate for something familiar to put himself into, the thought of living like a civilian any longer makes his stomach sink. Raiden rolls over onto his side, curls up and pulls a pillow over his face.

“I'm not willingly putting you in danger.” Snake says.

“Why do you give a shit about what happens to me?”

His voice is muted by the pillow but he still feels so vulnerable, fully expecting his words to cause Snake to groan in exasperation and just leave him there.

He doesn't.

There's a rustling and he can feel the bed dip, and then Snake is sitting cross-legged behind him, with a hand on his shoulder.

“You... remind me of someone.” Snake has a reluctant tone.

Everything that's built up in him is released with muffled sobbing. How is he supposed to fix the damage from all the shit that's made him this way? Does he even deserve to? Is it worth the energy?

Almost forgetting that Snake is there, he's brought back into the room when he feels damp spots on the pillow from his tears and snot, and he's so embarrassed. Because Snake is still there, and he's right too. It's so difficult for him to deviate from his self-destructive tendencies, though Snake probably knows that from experience too. He wonders who exactly it is that he reminds Snake of.

Snake ruffles his hair and turns to put the television on – there's some cheesy adventure film playing on the first channel Snake flips to. Raiden feels a bit safer now that his ragged breathing is masked somewhat by the predictable dialogue and orchestral music score, though he stays curled up until he feels secure enough to move.

When he does, the smell of burnt dust from the storage heater fills the cramped room and he sees that Snake is actually watching the film, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. Discarding the pillow to the side, he sits up with his knees hugged up tight against his chest, resting his chin on top of them. He hasn't even spoken about anything specific, but he feels like a weight has been lifted. Maybe it's just being with someone who seems to be able to extrapolate what's going on in Raiden's head from their own firsthand experiences. Maybe it's... something else. Snake doesn't move when Raiden tips over a little to lean against him.

They stay like that until the end of the film, and Raiden feels brave enough to bring the weird discussion Snake and the receptionist had up.

“So that name you gave on the Big Shell...”

Snake mumbles an acknowledgement.

“You took that from a movie?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Raiden starts laughing and wipes the last of the tears from his eyes.

“Then what's the 'iriquois' part of it from? The receptionist never said anything about that.”

“It's, ah.. a Native American tribe. One of the proposed etymologies of the word was-”

“Let me guess, is it 'snake'?” Raiden interjects, a wide grin on his face. 

“Well, what can I say. I'm not very imaginative...” Snake turns to look at him, his usual stern demeanour softened slightly. “You know, you're a good kid, Raiden.”

“I'm-” for once, Raiden decides not to argue, and ignores the voice screaming at him that he's worthless. “- If you say so.”

“I do. Thing's'll turn out all right.”

“You gonna have anything to do with that?”

Raiden kind of regrets letting the words out his mouth when he realises the implication, but Snake just chuckles softly.

“Who knows.”


	2. Chapter 2

Light peeks through the cheap, thin curtains, waking Raiden up from a pleasantly uneventful sleep. He panics slightly – forgetting where he was and why he was there. After he rubs his eyes and collects himself, Raiden doesn't really recall falling asleep or Snake leaving. What he does recall, is his vagueness around Philanthropy. He'd initially outright refused, but he wasn't so dismissive the last time it was mentioned. He stretches, his shoulders aching from years of awkward sleeping positions, and pulls off the sheets. If he remembers correctly, Snake's room is at the opposite end of the corridor from his. He tries to check the time on the alarm clock, which was so kindly provided free with the room, but it doesn't display anything, and after a quick inspection Raiden finds it doesn't even have any batteries in it.

He makes his way to Snake's room and knocks on the door tentatively, to no response. Another couple of knocks coaxes out something between a sigh and a grumble, unmistakably Snake, and Raiden breathes out a huff of relief.

He pulls back the door, just enough to see that it’s Raiden, then opens it fully, hair flattened on one side and dark circles under his eyes.

“Do you know what time it is, kid?” Snake's voice is raspy.

“Uh,” Raiden falters, “No... what is it?”

“It's-” Snake turns to find the clock in his room stopped as well, and huffs, exasperated.

Raiden stifles a laugh as Snake tells him to come in. It turns out to be past midday.

“Are you serious about wanting to join Otacon and me?”

The question throws him off guard. Snake is always so direct.

“Yeah... I mean...”

“Is Rosemary happy with that?”

Raiden grimaces and bites down on the inside of his cheek, clenching his fingers into his palms.

“She's- I haven't-”

“You haven't told her about it?”

“No... It's more...” Raiden pauses to steady his breathing, “It's more complicated than that. I, uh... I haven't seen her in... I dunno. Months.” he mumbles.

Snake picks at the skin on his bottom lip, brows furrowed. The silence makes Raiden feels like his heart-beat is audible to the whole damn building.

“Fine.” Snake says, after what feels like an eternity.

“What?”

“I said fine. Take as much time as you need to tie up your loose ends around here, then call me again.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep.”

“But what about-”

“You can help us find Olga's kid. After that, you've gotta find your own way. 's that reasonable?”

“But- why?”

“If you’re having second thoughts, that’s fine too.”

Raiden shakes his head, a bit more energetic than he meant to.

“Anyway. Like I said, you remind me of someone.” Snake taps the side of his nose with a smirk, then goes to shuffle around in his bag, pulling out some money from his wallet.

“Use this if you need it. And call me when you’re done, OK?”

He doesn’t quite believe what he’s hearing, but he takes the bills and stuffs them in the back pocket of his jeans.

“Yeah... I don’t think I’ll be long.”

“Sure. See ya.” Snake’s wave goodbye is a weird, static one, as if he’s remembered half way through he’s waving and not giving a salute.

* * *

Raiden pulls his jacket closer around himself – it's bright but there's no heat in the sun, as he walks back to his appartment. The sunshine and the thought of a tangible goal, something to work towards, fills him with hope. 

He calls his landlord, explaining he's leaving. He still has to pay the next month's rent, but luckily she's understanding enough. It sounds kind of pathetic when he thinks to himself that she's one of the only people he thinks he'll miss -- he barely had any sort of relationship with her outside of sending her money every month.

Aside from that, he doesn't really have any other “loose ends”, as Snake put it, though he wonders if it's worth sending Colonel Campbell – the real one – a letter to thank him for at least giving him enough for a few months rent and food. He doesn't know his address, though, nor does he know how to go about finding it himself.

There's a deep pang in the pit of his stomach when he remembers he doesn't have any way to contact Rose, either.

* * *

Snake meets him outside his apartment, leaning against his beat up Nissan Micra with a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“That it?” He raises an eyebrow at the single, ragged canvas bag Raiden has.

“I guess.” Raiden shrugs.

“Well, s'pose it's good we don't have to stand around trying to figure out how to fit all your stuff in this piece of crap.” He raps his knuckles against the boot.

Raiden gets into the passenger side, slings his bag onto the backseat.

“You sure you’re all done here?” Snake asks.

Raiden pauses before giving a resolute nod, and Snake pulls out into the road.

* * *

In between some stuck traffic and toll roads, the car journey stretches on for about 2 hours, though Raiden sleeps for most of it. He wakes up with a stiff neck and finds he’s left a sizeable spot of drool on the seat belt. Snake must have stopped along the way, as there’s a cheap, empty can of coffee sitting in the cup holder between them that wasn’t there when they left New York.

“You didn’t get me anything?” Raiden half-jokes, motioning towards it.

“I figured you needed your beauty sleep.” Snake doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but there’s a wry grin on his face. “We’re almost there, anyway. It’s just up ahead, about 10 minutes”

It’s too dark for Raiden to see exactly where they are, but it looks like they aren’t anywhere near civilisation. The road is surrounded by forest on one side and a lake on the other. There are some lights in the distance - Raiden assumes this is their destination.

The house looks like something out of a stereotypical horror movie, the remoteness and the lights reflecting on the water's edge are decidedly unsettling. Somehow, as Snake pushes the wooden cabin door open, Raiden feels more safe here than he did in the city. Though this feeling only lasts until he realises he'll have to interact with Otacon. 

He's sitting on the floor in front of the couch, fiddling about with something Raiden assumes is computer components -- a coffee table is pushed out of the way and an Aztec-pattern rug cushions him from the bare wooden planks. Once he hears the door creak open and shoes sweep across the doormat, Otacon whips around and his face lights up. Raiden isn't sure how to greet him. All he can think about is Emma, lying on the cold metal floor of the Big Shell and bleeding to death. It was Raiden's fault.

Snake notices that Raiden seems a little shell-shocked, and gives him a gentle nudge. It's not enough to snap him out of it though, the impulse to turn tail and run now burns right through him. He's forgotten how to talk to people, this was such a fucking stupid idea. He's not smart like Otacon and he's not a patch on The Legendary Solid Snake when it comes to combat. What the Hell is he bringing to the table here?

“You know, I uh, I think I forgot something.” Raiden barks out a high pitched, fake laugh, “I'm gonna maybe head back now...”

He scrambles to pick up his bag from the floor and turns to leave, but Snake puts a steady hand on his shoulder and flips him back to face him.

“You forgot something? Kid, it took the better part of two hours to get here, I am absolutely not driving you all the way back right now.”

“B-but. Can’t I get a bus or train? I really need to-”

Raiden's flight response gives way to a freeze – Snake's grip is tightening and it's like a zap collar on a dog. He looks over to Otacon and they perform what looks like some sort of mind reading trick – communicating solely through head tilts and nods – and Otacon starts rifling through one of the kitchen drawers.

He makes a triumphant “Aha!” as he pulls out a tattered menu and hands it to Raiden.

“You must be hungry. Pick something, it's on us!”

Though it's a simple enough concept, Raiden struggles to parse what has just been said. He squints at the once glossy, now dull, paper as if it were written in runes.

“Just get the usual, Hal. You're not a picky eater, are you, Raiden?”

Upon hearing his name, he jerks his head up. They’re ordering a take-out. They're also both looking at him, eyes expectant. Raiden concedes, brushing off Snake's hand and walking to the sofa, sitting down with a loud exhale. Why does he have to be so god-damned awkward?

He sits in silence while Snake calls to order and Otacon explains to him what he's doing with the computer parts on the floor. Something to do with bypassing the security functions that are embedded in the hardware, and Raiden nods and hums as if he understands what any of this means.

* * *

Once the food arrives, Otacon makes the mistake of offering Raiden a beer -- “My own homebrew!” he beams, pushing up his glasses. While Snake remains sober, Otacon excuses himself to go to bed after drinking just enough to grow tipsy. Raiden, on the other hand, knocks back litres of the stuff, like it’s water after he’s ran a marathon. Otacon didn’t seem to notice -- Raiden kept up his silent act -- but now Snake is grimacing at him, something that might be disappointment in his face. He places a hand over Raiden’s arm, stopping him from drinking any more.

"That's enough.” 

Raiden scowls like a child who’s been denied dessert, bats away Snakes hand and chugs it down before Snake can stop him again. The glass narrowly misses smashing as it rolls out of his hand onto the rug.

“ _Raiden._ ”

Snake’s patience is wearing thin, and in his impulsive state, Raiden feels like testing how far it will go. He takes a sudden swing, catching Snake by surprise and landing a glancing hit across his ear before the rest of his body follows and pins him to the sofa. Raiden closes his eyes and grins slack-jawed, the endorphins and alcohol all but washed away his anxiety and shame.

 

“Quit being -” Snake takes the opening and regains his composure to flip their positions, slamming Raiden’s shoulders against the arm-rest. “- _such an asshole._ ”

Immediately Snake regrets this action, as he sees Raiden’s eyes grow wide and his body freezes up - rigid like he was playing dead.

“Shit, kid. I didn’t mean to...” he slowly moves his hands up as his sentence trails off.

Raiden stares right through Snake, before asking where the bathroom is.

“End of the hallway.”

Raiden sways to his feet to and follows Snake’s instructions, swallowing repeatedly as he shambles along. Muffled sounds from behind the bathroom door become more urgent, until he can hear Raiden heaving into the toilet. Snake enters, closing the door behind him, wrinkling his nose and wincing away from the smell. After some hesitation, he wets his hands under the tap, kneels down and gathers Raiden's hair, slicking it back out of his face. There’s a lull in his vomiting, and Snake begins to say something, but it’s swiftly interrupted by a strangled cough before Raiden starts again. With pursed lips, Snake scratches the back of his head and pulls his shirt over his nose, waiting for Raiden to finish throwing up.

Eventually he raises his head, muttering a “ _Jesus._ ” as Snake hauls him up off the floor, walks him through to the spare room and lowers him down on the bed. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, the room was spinning. He sits for a while, too out of it to lie down, until he’s startled by something damp lands on his lap -- Snake’s thrown him a washcloth.

“You should clean yourself up.” Snake says, placing a pint glass of water and some ibuprofen on a small bookcase by the bed.

He runs the washcloth over his face, groaning and crumpling it up into a ball before it slips out of his hands. Snake gingerly picks it up and tosses it over next to the door, then sits down next to Raiden. He reaches towards him with what was intended to be a reassuring shoulder-squeeze, but ends up as a sort of stiff back pat. In response, Raiden takes Snake's arms into an awkward grip, staring at him with eyes he can barely keep open.

“Snake, I...”

He blinks slowly, white-blond eyelashes clumping together with water and tears, and Snake's stomach sinks as he recognises the want in Raiden's expression. 

Ever since they'd met, Snake wasn’t quite sure about his feelings towards Raiden. He’d thought himself a mentor figure, but there was something else there that he couldn’t put his finger on until now. It’s the way he manages to hold an air of both vulnerability and competence around himself at the same time -- something he finds himself admiring a lot in other people too. It had probably been what had drawn him to Meryl and Otacon, but there was definitely more to it than that with Raiden.

Not really thinking, Snake tilts Raiden's chin upwards and presses their lips together in a graceless, open-mouthed kiss. The smell of puke and alcohol lingering about Raiden alerts Snake to his lapse of judgement. He jerks apart, prising the hands from his shoulders. He doesn't seem too upset by this, but Snake still feels as if Raiden is looking straight through him.

“Uh.” Snake tries to speak but he’s so off-kilter he can’t finish his sentence.

“Huh?” Raiden’s response is slow and his eyes are closed.

“You... should get some rest.”

“Mm.” he pats to his side to locate a pillow and flops down. “You’reright. Thankssnake.”

Snake rubs his forehead. He’s leapt over a boundary he wishes he hadn’t breached, and he can only hope Raiden doesn’t fully remember this in the morning.


End file.
